The Strange Color of his Eyes
by HannaDoo
Summary: AU. The boys grow up close to the Roadhouse. 13yearold Jo Harvelle reflects on the Winchesters. Not half as boring as the verb 'reflect' promises.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Strange Color of his Eyes**

**Rating: T**

**Warning: This story is AU. I've decided to make the boys grow up in the environment of the Roadhouse because... well, because. Anyway, their childhood is pretty much the same as in the show, with the only exception they have somewhere stable to stay in-between hunting trips and they've already met the characters in the Roadhouse. Might have some spoilers if you haven't seen 2x02, but nothing particularly revealing.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, the Winchester boys are not mine, neither is his dad. If they were, I wouldn't be here writing fanfics. **

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Mom was terrified one day I would grow up, Dean would hit on me and break my heart. John was afraid his son would someday in the future screw me, then leave me and break the ties between our families. Dean himself was scared one morning he would come back from a hunting trip and realize he could not look at me as a child anymore. That would make John terribly disappointed. Thirteen-year-old me thought pretty much the same, but still daydreamed about it.

Sammy, because he was just Sammy for me then, had taught me how to use a computer, helped me with my homework a hundred times and taken me to some concerts that made him become Dean's laughing stock for a month. He was, yeah, Sammy, kind of an older cousin who spoils you because you're his little girl. I know it sounds childish, it still does for me now, but, anyway, it's the truth. I had never, never ever, really looked at him till that day he picked me up from school.

* * *

The giggles from the oh-so-perfect girls in my class could be heard miles around. Don't get me wrong: I was not part of that group. I was this weird girl with not many friends and not really pretty, blond, nor busty enough to be even noticed by the elite. So I rolled my eyes at yet another oh-he's-sooo-hot group squeal, not even wondering who they were talking about. One step more and I saw Sammy in the gates, waving his hand at me. I smiled back and tried to go meet him, not before being almost literally tackled by a cheerleader who apparently could have done better as a quarterback. I was suddenly surrounded.

"_Hey, Jo! 'Cos it's Jo, right?"_

_(Cool girls know my name? Cool girls are know talking to Weirdo Harvelle?)_

"_Uh-huh."_

_(They are smiling. At__ me. Apocalypse must be on its way.)_

"_We were wondering about th__at guy waiting for you today." _

_(Hysterical laugh. This is gonna be a horrible conversation.)_

"_Wondering, huh?"_

"_Yeah... Is he your brother?"_

"_Nah."_

"_So he is..."_

"_Ok, look, you Kelly, Brenda or whoever. If you're gonna mock me because I'm being picked up at school and I'm such a baby for that, you'd better do it fast. I'm kind of hungry."_

They all looked at each other rather puzzled. Then, it finally hit me: it was not about me. God, they had the hots for Sam. Now, that was funny. He was my Sammy, after all. When I managed to escape from those Barbie-wannabes, he told me about Dean, his father and my mom going to a hunter's funeral in Nebraska. He kept talking, even apologized because he thought I was mad at him for waiting for me at the gates as if I were a little girl. I was silent during most of the walk home. At lunchtime, he kept rambling about some program Ash had designed to track demon activity. He was all excited about the thing. I nodded every now and then, not really listening, but looking at him, suddenly discovering the strange color of his eyes: depending on the light they were goldenish, green or almost blue. So my eyes moved to his lips and then to his hands, and for some reason I could almost know how they would feel on my skin. That was it, as simple as it sounds: one morning he was my Sammy, and by lunchtime he had become Mr. Oh-my-god-how-could-I-never-notice-how-gorgeous-he-is. Childish, as I said before, but true.

* * *

I guess it was easy to miss Sam when you had Dean, who was sorta my own Brad Pitt, at home. Seriously, there were moments I could just have stuck a big poster of him in the wall of my room. C'mon, I was going through adolescence and he was older, handsome and dangerous, and a blondish version of John. Because, man, if I had ever, ever in my life, had an enormous, immense crush on someone, if I had ever felt complete and utter adoration for someone, that was John Winchester.

When Dad was still alive, Mom and him used to take turns to work in the bar. The one who was not on duty would spend time with me in the house. You know, it's not good for a hunter to expose his weaknesses to anyone who could just walk by and, of course, the roadhouse is not exactly the best place for a baby girl to be. So when Dad died and I started helping Mom with business (even if my help only included a bit of cleaning and making some sandwiches in the kitchen), I didn't know any hunter. Except for John. He was a personal friend of my family, so I was used to see him having a beer with Dad in my house way before I started stealing curious glances at the rest of the hunters from the doorway of the kitchen.

I had always been an extremely shy kid, to the point Mom was worried about it. But, for some reason, timidity was left behind every time John Winchester smiled to me. When I was five, I asked him to wait for me to grow up 'cos I wanted to marry him. And, apparently, the first time we met, one year before that, he said _'hello'_ and my answer was something along the lines of _'you are SO handsome!'_

I have this memory of a day I was sitting in Dad's lap, and he was teasing me about the issue. I told him, very matter-of-factly, that I should marry John Winchester because every time he kissed me and his stubble brushed my cheek, there were butterflies in my stomach and I felt all warm in the inside and Mom had told me that happened when you were in love. I can never recall my Dad laughing as hard as he did that day. He didn't live much time afterwards.

* * *

I shook my head, trying to stop the sad memories.

"_You sure you're ok, Jo?",_ Sam asked, worried look in his eyes.

"_Yeah, I was just concentrating on enjoying your delicious cooking",_ I stuck out my tongue.

He laughed hard. And suddenly I noticed his dimples, which were just like John's, but still had something genuinely Sam's. And it came to me that maybe I didn't want a younger, blondish version of John. Maybe I wanted something different, but that still made me feel butterflies in my stomach and warmth in the inside.

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**Have I ever mentioned I absolutely LOVE reviews? (wink, wink, wink)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I know you were wondering about it: nay, the Winchesters are still not mine. I've put them in my letter to Santa, but last year he said something about them belonging to a certain Mr. Krypke. I honestly think he should share his toys with me. **

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Wise men say there is no such thing as a universal truth. Well, they think that because they don't know the Winchesters. They are the kings of universal truths. They have a freaking MBA in universal truths. They can be distrustful, they might be considered incredulous, but when the Winchester men came to have a certain belief, there was no way in hell you could make them reconsider it. They had built their lives around things that had always been and will always be true for them. I think they like that. When you know what is out there, how much unknown evil there is in this world, you enjoy having some stable, unchangeable things that make you feel safe. I guess that's why us the Harvelles have often got carried away by them. 

The Winchesters, for example, strongly believe Sam is the clever son and Dean is the great fighter. They have thought that as long as I've known them. Then, you know that by the time Dean was fifteen, he had such knowledge of classical and contemporary mythology he could be a lecturer at university. And Sam, he was impressive during trainings, even if he was still a teenager and John and Dean - his sparrings - were older and much more experienced.

And that was another universal truth in the roadhouse: you had to train to be able to defend yourself. I was ok with that, I had always said I wanted to be a hunter. But if I had refused, if I had said I didn't want to learn a thing about fighting supernatural things, John would have dragged my sorry ass from my room to the training sessions. In them, he was as hard to me as to his boys, which sometimes drove me mad.

"_I'm a girl, John, in case you haven't noticed it,"_ I said once, completely exasperated for being pinned, once more, to the floor.

"_Good point, Harvelle, because demons always fight __with less strength against girls. It wouldn't be fair if they didn't, huh? Now, get up. Once more from the beginning."_

There was a third common belief: Dean liked women, women liked Dean. I (even if I was not yet considered a grown up woman) had always carried an enormous torch for Dean and I would always do.

Plus, they had a very concrete idea of what was exactly a man. John was a man. Dean was a man. Sam was still a boy who amused himself with computers, books and films. But there was no doubt he would soon mature, start dedicating his time to more relevant things and stop talking about universities far from home and his family. So, you sum up those things, and we get something promising: if I managed to get Sam interested in me, nobody would ever suspect about us. I'm sure they could find us playing tonsil hockey in our very own sofa and John and Mom would still honestly believe the little innocent boy was giving me the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

Then again, on the negative side, I also had the honor of being the protagonist of one of the big rules for the Winchesters: I am eight. Always have, always will. When I was that age, a possessed hunter somehow managed to enter the Roadhouse. He did not get that far, but I could still see the slaughter from the doorway that communicated our place and the bar. The Winchesters had just moved in and I couldn't sleep after what I had seen. Mom was still working at the bar when I was in bed that night, eyes wide open with panic. There was some strange noise outside and I ran for my life to the corridor, where I found Sammy. He was terrified too, but took the role of wise, experienced person. He told me I could sleep with him if I was really afraid, though there was not a reason for it anymore, and he would take care of me.

He was ten.

* * *

"_You still up, baby girl?"_ John's voice startled me. 

"_I was finishing cleaning the tables and remembering good old times, I guess..."_

"_Don't tell me you're getting nostalgic over turning fourteen",_ he ruffled my hair lovingly.

"_No",_ I smiled_, "I was remembering that night with the possessed hunter and all."_

There was a short silence.

"_Dean says you still do it"_

"_Do what?",_ I asked.

"_Climbing into Sam's bed when you're scared or having nightmares."_

I blushed. From head to toe. I didn't wanna be treated like a baby, and there I was, behaving like a baby. Now, that's coherent!

"_Hey! Not big deal", he hugged me towards him. "Everybody needs a place to feel safe, you know? And I'm sure Sam doesn't mind your snoring"_

"_I don't snore! And I don't go there anymore. Well, hardly ever. Ok, every now and then if I'm really, really, really afraid and I can't control it," _I gabbled.

John smiled one of those rare big smiles he gave me every now and then and took a beer from behind the counter.

"_So tomorrow is the big 1 – 4. You've got anything to say about that?",_ he directed the neck of the bottle to me, as if it were a microphone. God, he was tipsy. You gotta love tipsy John handling a beer-microphone to you. _"Any boyfriend we should know about?"_

"_I don't know John",_ I winked at him,_ "any girlfriend we should know about?"_

"_I don't know, Jo. Maybe I'm too much of an old dog for that."_

"_C'mon, I'm sure you've got plenty of women fainting everyday at how brave and manly you are",_ I teased him, hand on my forehead in my best drama-queen pose.

He tried hard not to laugh.

"_Women don't look at this old man now I bring Dean-o along with me." _

He got closer and I could see that look in his eyes. Tipsy, tipsy, tipsy. It made me smile, and he took that as a signal to go on with his speech.

"_But I'll get over it, don't you worry. It's not like it's the first time a girl changes me for my son, is it, Jo?"_

He winked at me again when he saw I was the color of the beetroot. When he mentioned his son, I couldn't stop thinking of Sam, of what had happened that day and how things now were... kinda different. At least for me.

I went to him and planted a big kiss on his cheek. My lips tickled but I didn't mind.

"_You know I'd never change you for anyone in this world."_

And it was true. I know the stupid things people say about all of us. From the harmless ones, like rumors that John and Mom are a couple now, to the most malicious, which, guess what, say in fact I'm John's daughter. Because, if I weren't, how on earth would he have such a soft spot for me.

Some time ago, in another one of those tipsy chitchats we have every other night, he told me how Mary and he had planned on trying to have a third kid, a girl, when Sammy grew up a bit. If she had lived enough, he said, they would have had a blond little thing like me.

But John knows I'm not his daughter. And I know he's not my father. He's just John and I don't need to put any label under his name to know why I love him. I don't feel he does, either. A quick hug, and I'm already half-way up the stairs. I stop for a second and go down a couple of steps.

"_John?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_You know if you can't find anything better, my wedding proposal still stands."_

**

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Reviews ARE love.**


	3. Chapter 3

**First of all, thanks to my reviewers. You're great, guys! Hope you like this chapter and you're not mad at me for my Dean. He's fourteen, and a bit jelous of Sam starting to have deep bonds with other people. He will get better soon, I promise.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, apart from my imagination, which is not that good, and little Jo's inquisitive side.**

* * *

Mom says it was really difficult for Dean. Personally, I can't remember more than some bits and pieces of their first months in the Roadhouse.

Something that is etched on my memory is the first time I saw them. John hadn't put a foot in the bar in months. One afternoon, he appeared on the parking lot, two kids following him in silence, like little soldiers. When I heard his voice, I flew downstairs and kissed him, tears fighting to fall from my eyes, remembering last time I had seen him was the last time I saw Dad alive. I hugged him tight so he wouldn't see me cry.

"_I'm so sorry, baby girl,"_ his voice was husky and trembling.

I just nodded and opened my eyes when I felt I could fight the tears back. Then, I noticed them. Two boys, both older, looking at me as if I had grown a second head.

"_Hum... Jo, these are my sons: Dean and Sam. Boys, say hello to Jo and Ellen,"_ he motioned to them to at least wave a hand.

They mumbled something which could have been a greeting. I was ashtonished

"_You are a FATHER?"_, my jaw hit the floor at that revelation.

"_I know, I should've told you when you proposed, but I thought knowing __they are both older than you could make you take it back," _he smiled at me and made me feel that warmth again.

Mom smiled for a second, too. That was something I had not seen in six months.

"_Jo, would you show the boys the backyard? Maybe __you could play something, couldn't you?"_

They talked for hours. I don't really know about what, and I don't think that's my business anyway. The boys looked at me suspiciously at first. I must say I liked them from the begining. Living in the middle of nowhere, I was homeschooled, so I didn't have that many oportunities to spend time with other kids and, above all, they were John's sons. There was no reason in this world why I wouldn't like them. In the begining, Sam was shy, half-hiding behind his brother. But when I asked them to play with me for a second time, curiosity got the best of him and he sent a questioning look in Dean's direction.

"_Don't look at me. Do whatever you wanna do",_ Dean cut him.

That afternoon was spent running from one place to another and playing hide-and-seek. Dean listened to a tape in his walkman, keeping us at a distance, but never losing sight of his little brother. If there is a feeling I can remember perfectly from that day is the pain in my stomach from laughing so hard. I really didn't want them to leave.

* * *

Two days after, the Winchesters moved in to the two rooms we rented to them. John and Mom decided it would be good for us three to go to a real school, and I was old enough to know I shouldn't be talking about monsters to anyone there. So that fall, Dean, Sam and I started waking up at a time we considered inhumane to get into one of those yellow buses. Sam and I managed to keep a low profile: friendly, but not too much. Because, as excited as you might be at the prospect of meeting new people at school, you REALLY didn't wanna have to give a sleepover at the Roadhouse.

One afternoon, I caught Dean sneaking to the toilet. I followed him, out of curiosity. He smelled like trouble. I knocked hard.

"_Deaaaaan... are you ok?"_

"_What business is it of yours?"_

"_Are you sick?"_

"_ARE YOU DEAF?"_

"_Nope... Do you need anything?"_

"_Will you ever shut up?"_

"_Erm... I dunno. Do you want me to call my mom for help?"_

He suddenly pulled the door open and started me. I stared at him, mouth wide open.

"_Ooooooh... You've got blood all over you! Have you been hunting on __your own? I thought you guys only hunted on the days there's no school",_ I was disconcerted.

"_Shhhhhhh!! Will you stop shouting if I let you in?"_

I nodded vehemently.

When I got in, I noticed he was cleaning with water a gash in his eyebrow. I moved to the small cabinet and took the bottle of disinfectant and some cotton.

"_I used to help Mom when dad was hurt."_

"_Whatever. Just be careful with that."_

"_Dean", _I suddenly started whispering.

"_What is it NOW, midget?"_

I frowned at the not-so-loving nickname.

"_Were you really hunting something evil?",_ the level of my voice was barely audible then. Mom had forbidden them to talk me about their hunting trips.

"_I wish",_ Dean snorted. _"It was just a stupid fight over a girl."_

"_Do you like girls?",_ I gaped at him.

"_Why do you think I d__on't?",_ he was somewhere between annoyed and amused.

"_Well, you don't like Mom, you don't like me, when you're mad at Sammy you cal__l him a girl...",_ I argued. He didn't answer, so I tested my luck_. "Will you teach me how to hunt when I'm older, Dean?"_

"_What? You're a girl!,"_ I tried my best see-my-point face, which didn't work. _"And, besides, I don't have to teach you anything, you're not my sister", _he barked. _"Why am I even talking to you?"_

I silently helped him disinfect the gash in his eyebrow and the ones in his arm. They were quite big and they sure hurt, but Dean was too proud to cry before anyone, let alone me. When I was almost done, I confronted him.

"_I can play on my own, you know?"_

"_You... WHAT?",_ he looked puzzled.

I rolled my eyes in desperation.

"_I.can.play.on.my.own. I used to play on my own. Sammy is sad you don't wanna play with him anymore and he thinks it's his fault."_ I took a deep breath. _"But I know it's because now he plays with me and you don't like me at all. Not a bit. So I can play on my own, and you two can play computer games, or football, or soccer or whatever boys like playing." _

I folded my arms, full of dignity, and opened the door before he had the opportunity to reply.

* * *

That evening the big argument between John and Dean happened. Sam and I were listening in the doorjam, hiding in the shadows. John paced the room, telling off his eldest son for having been expelled from school for a week.

"_What are we going to tell the kids? You think you're setting a good example for them?,"_ John reproached him.

Dean clenched his fists and directed an accusing glance to his father. He had never answered John back before.

"_She's not my sister,"_ he said huskily.

"_WHAT?",_ John sounded surprised.

"_This is not my house. Ellen is not my mother",_ he gritted his teeth, _"and she's not my sister, Dad, she's not my sister, she's not my sister. SHE'S NOT... or is she?"_ fourteen-year-old Dean continued with his most bitter tone.

As soon as he finished, John slapped him. He had never put a hand on neither of his boys before. Both of them had tears threatening to fall from their eyes when he spoke again.

"_Don't ever dare say that again." _

Their conversation was finished. Sam and I were way too ashtonished to talk about it while still in the doorway.

* * *

Later, when I was already in bed, someone knocked on my door.

"_Come in",_ my voice trembled. I was afraid it could be John, and he would discover I had been spying.

It was Sam, already wearing his pajamas. He stood in the doorway, undecided. He finally managed to say something.

"_I've thought maybe it can work both ways."_

I understood, lifting my conforter so he could enter the bed.

"_Cold or afraid?",_ I asked.

"_I don't know, maybe both."_

By the time our eyes had gotten used to the darkness and we could see each other with the lights off, heads resting on my pillow, he decided to open to me.

"_It always happens, when something goes wrong, when one of us gets into trouble, we leave wherever we are living. It doesn't matter if we've got an exam the next day, of the final game of a championship in a week. We take our things and find another motel room in a different place,"_ he sighed.

"_This is not a motel,"_ I whispered, trying to cheer him up. _"And we already know who you are."_

"_I know. But I like the Roadhouse, and I like Ellen, and I like you, and going to the same school for months. I don't wanna leave",_ he protested.

"_You're not gonna leave, we'll tell your Dad tomorrow",_ I yawned. _"I like you all too."_

"_Even Dean?",_ Sammy asked.

"_I guess yeah. Even if sometimes he's..."_ I wrinkled my nose, trying to find the words.

"_... an ass!"_ Sam finished off my sentence, causing us both to break down in fits of giggles.

We hugged goodnight, both scared it would be the last time, and that's how my mother found us the following morning. John had left on a hunt and Dean helped Ellen in the kitchen while he couldn't go to school. Much to Sammy's relief, the incident between his brother and his father was never brought back again by neither of them.

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**Sooo, what do you think? Good? Bad? You wanna kill me for my writing?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi there! I know. You're thinking: this chapter took ages. Aaaah, don't tell me. I kept writing, and deleting, and writing, and getting stuck, and writing some more, and feeling stupid. I guess I need a beta OR... maybe a new brain with more/better ideas. Anyway, hope the chapter is not too bad. Let me know what you think.**

**Disclaimer: Noo. The characters are still not mine. I just like playing with them.**

**_"Words written like this"_ are dialogue**

**_(Words written like this)_ are thoughts**

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I couldn't stop thinking it looked better before I bought it. When I stared at my image in my room, skinny jeans and black tank top on, I saw less of the sexy young woman I had caught a glimpse of in the shop's glass and more of a little girl wearing the clothes of her elder sister. I was tempted to change back into my old jeans and the Metallica T-shirt Dean had given me a couple of years before. But Mom was so glad I was worried about girly things instead of obsessed with hunting she had given me some bucks to spend on clothes for my birthday. We were not exactly rolling over money after Dad's death, so at least I should have the decency to wear what I had bought. I was finally approaching the door when someone downstairs felt the need to shout at the top of his lungs.

"_JOOOO!!!! Are you bloody sewing your own clothes? 'Cos some people here are getting hungry."_

"_Shut up, Dean! Don't be such a whining girl. I'm almost done here, ok?"_

(_One...two...three... four...five)_, I focused on counting the steps as I was walking down the stairs. My eyes were fixed on that spot in my boots where the leather was almost torn_. (Twelve...thirteen... fourteen... fifteen. End of the journey, Jo, you'll have to raise your head.)_

I searched their faces for some sign of an opinion. John was wearing his poker face and, man, he was good at that. Mom looked surprised. I could feel I was making Sam nervous, though not really if it was in a good or bad way. We had a nice lunch, the cake was really good and I loved my presents. For some reason there was a moment when I thought my outfit would not be mentioned.

But, of all people, Dean had to be the one speaking.

"_What the fuck are you wearing?",_ he asked, mouth still full of chocolate.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance.

"_I don't know... Could they be clothes, Einstein? And don't speak while you're eating",_ I shot back.

He sent me the hell of a murderous look while he swallowed that piece of cake. I was gonna pay for that during a training, sooner or later.

"_I think you're showing too much."_

"_Well, I think you're staring too long."_

"_Do you know who stares too long? You know who, Ellen?",_ he directed a look to Mom, trying to get some co-operation, _"boys your age, Jo. They stare too long, and they stare at body parts they shouldn't be staring at. And you know what boys your age think about all the time? Tell her, Sammy"_

Sam jumped on his seat.

"_I don't think about anything"_, he shook his head vehemently, all puppy eyes, _"I swear, Ellen."_

"_Maybe I should wear a burka", _I interrupted.

"_Finally a good idea there!" _Dean snorted.

"_Dean! I've got tits, get over it already!",_ I tried to shut him up.

"_Joanna Beth!"_ my mother was looking serious.

"_But Mom!",_ I complained, with no results at all. The conversation was over.

We talked about this and that and took some pictures for Ash, who was away at the time doing some business we didn't wanna know about. My friends were soon waiting for me at the door. Sam and I took our jackets and listened to the last pieces of advice before leaving.

"_I'm trusting you, show me it's the right thing",_ Mom gave Sam the keys of her truck. That was gonna be his first time ever driving without an adult watching him_. "And Jo, no matter what the rest do, don't lose Sammy, ok? You're going to that concert in town only because he'll be watching out for you."_

I rolled my eyes.

"_Sure, Mom. I wouldn't dream of getting an inch of separation from Sam. I'll go to__ the toilet with him if that's necessary."_ I affectedly batted my eyelids.

Anna, Rose and Mark were waiting for us at the door.

"_Wow! You look__ different!" _Anna smiled.

"_I join__ the WOW!"_ Mark added, ignorant of what he was asking for with that comment. I was sniggering even before Dean put his grip in the back of his neck.

"_You touch her, I'll gut you. You look at her, I'll gut you",_ Dean directed to my poor friend his most menacing look _"you think of her..."_

"_You'll gut me, I get it"_ Mark said in a barely audible voice.

I rolled my eyes.

"_Ok, thank you__ for your protection, Cerberus, but I think I'm old enough to take care of myself."_

He turned his gaze to his younger brother.

"_Keep an eye on her, Sammy."_

"_Sure, Dean, sure",_ he answered, already on the other side of the door.

* * *

"_C'mon, it was not that bad!"_

"_Sam! You got us lost and when we finally arrived there, the concert had been canceled 'cos the place didn't have the appropriate license,"_ I argued.

"_You mean this is not your very best birthday ever?"_, he gaped, pretending to be offended.

"_As much as I'm enjoying our thumb wrestling competition, I had a different idea of what today was gonna be like."_

Sam's face went immediately straight.

"_If you're bored and wanna go back home, I'm ok with that."_

"_Nay, I like playing with you." _

He smiled. We were killing time in Mom's truck before returning home. Maybe we were not the most popular kids in school but that didn't mean we were ready to arrive home one hour before curfew with our tails between our legs.

"_It was still quite a good birthday, anyway,"_ he stated.

"_Was it?",_ I raised my eyebrow while I tried to beat him once more.

"_Dean's face when he saw your clothes? Totally worth eating Ellen's special stew."_

I burst out in laughter.

"_Is it just me or it's getting worse every year?"_

"_It__ is,"_ he took a breath "_And the burka part? Genius, I must say."_

He laughed again, cute, cute, cute dimples appearing. I bit my lip. I was getting goosebumps all over my skin. He had been making that happen the whole afternoon. Dean had told him to watch my back. Sam was an obedient boy, so he did it. Literally. Every now and then, I felt his eyes on the small of my back, staring at the skin between the hem of my top and the waistband of my low-ride jeans. Maybe trying to assume I was not his little girl anymore. We had been exchanging looks and shy smiles nobody else seemed to notice. But by the time Anna, Rose and Mark had been dropped back at their homes and we were finally alone in the car, nothing happened. Apart from the thumb wrestling competition, of course.

"_Ha! I WON!" _

"_Not fair! I wasn't paying attention,"_ I protested.

"_Good point, Harvelle_", he strained his voice so it would sound husky andolder_ "because if you ever thumb wrestle against a demon and you're not paying attention, he'll be fair to you. Now stop thinking about the burka you're buying tomorrow. Once more from the beginning!"_

I smiled at his impersonation of John.

"_Do you also think that it is, you know,"_ I gazed at my outfit _"too tight?"_

He stopped the game, hands still intertwined, and avoided my eyes nervously when he spoke.

"_I think tight looks good on you."_

I needed to look somewhere else, too, trying to hide my blush. He squeezed my hand.

_(Ok, Jo: it's now or never. You're so not gonna have better opportunities than this one. He's not going further than that remark if you don't dare make __a move. One, two, three. Go.)_

So I kissed him. Suddenly, probably clumsily, without any kind of warning. At first, my eyes were shut and my teeth so clenched together it hurt. Then, I noticed he was not rejecting me. I relaxed more and more as Sam's hands moved to caress my hair, my neck, my waist. I couldn't think anything coherent till I felt he was moving his face away from mine with a worried look.

"_It can't happen,"_ he whispered.

"_Why?",_ I demanded to know.

"_It's complicated. I'm so sorry, Jo, I shouldn't have... I shouldn't. Really." _

He moved to start the engine. I put the key in its initial position. I was not gonna end the conversation that way.

"_But Sam..."_

"_Look, if you were... If I were..."_ he sighed _"it's not going to happen again, that's it."_

"_No, that's not it. I'm not your sister, Sam."_

"_I know."_

"_What if things were different? What would happen if this was the first time we met? If I was not Ellen's daughter, and you were not John's kid? What if...?"_

"_Jo, you are who you are",_ he closed his eyes_, "and I am who I am, and this is not right. Not right."_ He opened them again, and pulled a strand of hair behind my ear_. "You understand?"_

I pushed his hand aside, and avoided his eyes.

"_I wanna go home."_

"_Jo..."_

"_I'm tired, I wanna go home."_

He took the keys and started the car. I had my eyes fixed on the dark scenery.

"_Crappy first kiss",_ I mumbled, breath misting over my window. It was gonna be a long sleepless night for me. (_Happy fourteenth birthday, Jo. You've fucked up big time.)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Ah! This story keeps giving more problems than I thought it would. Anyway, this is what I got for chapter 5. I tried my best to update soon, so Hero Lilly wouldn't die in the process of waiting. **

**There is a link to my lj in my profile (if you click on 'Homepage'.) There's a little post I made on the 2nd of January where you can see how my Jo and my Sam look in this story. Just in case you're curious.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish!**

* * *

"_Johanna",_ she called.

'Jo' is the neutral thing, what she says everyday. 'Johanna Beth' most certainly means trouble. But 'Johanna', that is reserved for we-need-to-talk moments. And a we-need-to-talk moment is the last thing you need the morning after being rejected on your birthday.

"_Huh?",_ I answered reluctantly.

"_We need to talk."_

"_Crap",_ I mumbled.

If she heard my mortified reply, it didn't show. She pulled the chair next to hers and I knew there was no exit.

"_Last night you looked... older." _

She tried to act calm, but her hands were moving too fast to fool me. I raised an eyebrow, a bit confused about why we were having that conversation. Then, I remembered our last we-need-to-talk moment. My eyes went wide open and I covered my face with my hands.

"_Not again, Mom!",_ my voice pleaded, _"we went through this once and it was enough. I told you I'd pay attention in Health Class and I have. Just please, please, pleeeease, don't start again telling me about hormones and showing me books for kids that explain"_ my hands finally left my face, so they could draw quotes in the _air " 'the miracle of life.' It's embarrassing for me and embarrassing for you. And Mom..."_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Nobody wants to see illustrations of penises and vaginas with her mother. It's weird. Really. Please, don't."_

She combed her hair with her fingers, actually looking relaxed. There was even an incipient smile on her lips.

"_That's not what I wanted to talk about, but now __you mention it, sex shouldn't be a taboo with your mother."_

"_Mom!",_ I complained_, "if that was not THE THING, can't we just skip it for now? Please, pretty please?"_

"_I guess we can."_ Her features were tense again. _"I was telling you last night you looked older."_

"_Because I AM older."_ I folded my arms, on the defensive.

"_Well, honey, yes, you are older now. You are fourteen. You're almost a woman. But almost a woman is not a woman. Not yet. Do you see where I'm coming?"_

"_Honestly?",_ she nodded, so I continued, _"no clue."_

"_Alright, let's go to the point. You are fourteen, baby, you are older now. But Dean is twenty. Twenty is A LOT more than fourteen, much more than six years. There are many things between fourteen and twenty. Things you shouldn't rush through. Things you shouldn't miss."_

"_Mom..."_

"_No, let me finish. I know he is attractive, and I know you think he's hung the moon up in the sky, but it can't happen, sweetie", _she tangled her hand in my hair as a lump was forming in my throat_. "It's not going to happen." _

I finally gave in when she repeated, almost word by word, what Sam had told me the night before. "It can't happen. It's not going to happen." I thew away my last shreds of dignity and cried my eyes out in my mother's arms for the first time in many years.

* * *

Things with Sam were difficult. He really tried hard to go back to our old relationship, but it didn't work for me anymore. God knows I missed him a lot. It was not like suffering because some guy at school didn't fancy me. He was not 'someone.' Not anyone that one days walks in your life and could walk out the following one. He was a part of me.

I knew, I knew I was hurting Sam. It was written all over him and nobody cold read him as I could. But every time I saw those eyes, I broke in a hundred pieces. And you can't mend your soul ten times a day. There is always some little bit missing and, as hard as you try, the thing you've managed to put together doesn't really look like it did before.

* * *

One day, Mom announced Bobby was visiting for some days, as we was on a hunt nearby. We were all quite happy until she started with the small print. Apparently, he was having some economic trouble, so they had offered him a room in the house to stay. A more precise description? MY room.

"_Why me? Can't he sleep somewhere else?"_

"_Of course, we can offer him the presidential suite, silly, why didn't we think about that before?",_ Dean hammered. Dean annoyed me. Dean got on my nerves.

"_Get off my back!"_ I directed my gaze to Mom again_, "I'm just saying maybe there's some other place. Maybe the boys could share a bed and lend the other in their room to Bobby,"_ I tried my best pout.

"_I'm not sharing a bed with Sammy!"_ he barked.

"_Jo... I don't think that would be a good idea, and Sam and you have shared a bed lots of times before. We didn't really thi__nk that would be a problem,"_ she said, disconcerted.

She put her gimme-a-good-reason-and-you'll-get-your-way face. Too bad I couldn't say it aloud. Mom accepted my resigned silence as a yes. But Dean still had something to say.

"_I can't believe you're even complaining about it. You've slept with Sam like, what? A hundred times? You spend so much time together you'__re almost Siamese twins."_

"_It is con jointed twins,__"_ Sam made his first contribution to the discussion without even lifting his eyes from the book he was reading. Typical of him.

"_You're weird, do I tell you that often enough?",_ Dean replied.

Sam let out a loud sigh and, contrary to usual, he didn't go on the attack.

* * *

I washed my teeth hoping I could find a way to make it last hours. Later, in bed, there was an unspoken agreement of staying as far from the other as it was physically possible. I was half-asleep when I heard some noise.

"_What happens?", _I said sleepily.

"_Shhh!"_ Dean whispered_, "I'm going out."_

"_This late?"_ I yawned.

"_To a club",_ he answered as he found his things in the dark of the room.

"_But you're not 21 yet",_ I frowned.

He carefully sat next to me on the mattress and took a fake ID out of his pocket.

"_Apparently, I am",_ he smirked.

I laughed, trying not to wake up Sam.

"_Jo,__ we've been having some rows lately",_ he looked me right in the eye, so I could know he was serious even if I wasn't really able to see his face_. "But, you know..."_

I smiled.

"_Me too, Dean."_ I hugged him and he planted a kiss on my forehead. _"Have fun tonight."_

"_I will",_ he grinned. _"Take care of Sammy while I'm away, alright?"_

I nodded, not really sure my voice would respond if I tried to say it with words. When he left through the window, I decided to go back to sleep. But as soon as I put my head on my pillow, Sam turned the light on.

"_Can we talk about what happened the other day?"_ pleading puppy eyes asked.

_("No, Sam, not now, not yet. C'mon, Jo, think something, say something, do something to avoid it.")_

"_I need to go to the toilet." _

I rolled my eyes. What kind of an excuse was that? Anyway, by the time I started considering it I had already jumped from the bed and reached the bathroom.

Twelve minutes, thirty seconds later, I was still there, trying to find something to do. 'Cos, sadly, there are only so many things you can do in a toilet.

_("I don't need to stay here for hours, only until he falls asleep. And Sam sleeps like a dog, so that should not be a problem. Just find something else to do. Brush my hair? Check. Make faces in front of the mirror? Check. Count rolls of toilet paper? __Double check. Impersonation of Tom Cruise in Risky Business? Check. Try on Mom's make-up? Check. See if red lipstick looks slutty on me? Check (and yes, it does.) Remove make up? Check. Make faces in front of the mirror again? Check. Fourteen minutes, twenty seconds. God, this is gonna last forever, and there is nothing else to do. Mmm, maybe brush my teeth again? You can never have too much dental hygiene.")_

Sixteen minutes, forty seconds after leaving the room, I was dragging my feet back there, hoping Sam had either fallen asleep or taken the hint. I carefully opened the door and found him standing there, arms folded, no way to avoid him anymore.

"_Jo...",_ he whispered.

He put his hands on my shoulders. I wished I could get away from him, but I couldn't. I looked at him, chewing my lower lip, as I saw the concern in his face.

"_I've missed you",_ he said and hugged me as tight as he could.

"_I'm sorry",_ I half-sobbed.

We silently hugged for some minutes, I guess. They could have been hours. He stepped backwards, and took my face in his hands.

"_I__'d always thought it was about him",_ he gestured towards Dean's empty bed.

"_Seems like a popular belief round here lately..."_ I smirked, remembering Mom's words some days before.

"_I'm not him"_ he said, his forehead touching mine.

I nodded softly.

"_I know. I don't want him."_

"_You want ME?",_ he whispered, lips brushing against my ear.

I was shivering when I nodded again. Then, he softly put his lips on mine and we kissed, and kissed, and kissed, and kissed. It could have been a hundred, it could have been a thousand times. I felt I was floating.

When he stopped, I moaned in protest.

"_There's school tomorrow__ and Dean might be back any moment. Let's get some sleep,"_ he smiled.

When we got to bed, my back was leaning on his chest. He drew circles in my stomach, drifting me to sleep, as he laid a kiss or two in my neck.

"_Can I ask you something, Jo?"_

"_Yeah", _I babbled, as I was already half-asleep.

"_Why do you taste so much like mint?"_

My eyes snapped open_. (Now, Jo, go and find something that doesn't break the romantic atmosphere.)_

"_Erm... I happen to brush my teeth a lot?"_

**

* * *

Soo... What do ya think?** **Terrible, horrible, simply bad? ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**So this is the final version of chapter 6. I'm hoping to have next chapter in a week. **

**The Winchesters, as you know, are not mine and I do not get any profit from writing. **

**The story is AU, completely AU in relation to Sam/Jo. It will be somehow linked to the first scene in which we met Ellen and Jo in the show, but it will not be exactly that way because my characters DO know each other.**

* * *

I hated reunions. I used to hate them when I was younger and the Winchesters left for whole summers, leaving me behind, tearing me off from the recurrent illusion of being one more in the family. I hated them more than ever when they left again two weeks after my first real kiss with Sam. I hated them with all my soul when John found tracks of the demon who killed Mary for the first time in a long time and dragged them to California before Sam started his last year at high school. 

You would say I hated saying goodbye to them, but I didn't. What I loathed the most was seeing them again. Not knowing if they would ever come back. Checking my e-mail every hour and carrying my cell phone with me everywhere for two months just in case something wrong happened, only to be rewarded with some short, dull e-mail from Sam every three weeks, at best. Feeling the tension in my stomach when they did call to say they would reach the Roadhouse in a couple of days. Being nervous to the point of sickness when I saw that damned black car approach, then extremely relieved when the three of them got off and I could check none of them was badly injured. Listening to jokes only they could understand. Being, in the end, inevitably charmed by them every single time because, as much as it hurt, I did not have any right to be mad at them. I was not part of the family. Just an insignificant accessory they could perfectly do without.

John would behave the way he always did with me and he would soon have me eating out of his hand. Dean would pester me to the point I would lose that façade of pretended indifference towards them. Sam had traditionally used the puppy eyes on me, and moved on to hidden kisses in the storeroom after the thing with us started.

I hated, above all, how weak that made me feel before them. I had assumed a long time ago they would always be physically stronger than me. But not stronger in every sense of the word. I wanted to be a hunter, not the silly little girl who waves goodbye from the doorway.

I hated how the very moment Mom announced they would be there the following day, I already knew things would turn out as they always always did.

* * *

I am actually quite good with faces. You have to when the family business is a bar. And, specially, when the other family business involves other kind of activities, like mine did. I could perfectly see in my mind the most detailed form of the features of many regulars, and not-so-regulars of the Roadhouse. However, the exact faces of three men who lived with me for years kept avoiding me. I mean, of course I remembered what they all looked like, but not with the accuracy of others. I had observed them closely day after day, but then again, when I met them after some time away, they always looked somehow different from the mental image I had formed. They always appeared taller, stronger, fiercer, more confident, and much more handsome than I could even recall. 

That day everything seemed familiar, but still had a hint of novelty in it. I saw the car approach from the windows in the bar, instead of watching anxiously from the doorway. I concentrated my morning efforts on drying glasses to help Mom, maybe to have a small chance of looking if only a bit older before their eyes. The moment I heard the purr of the Impala, everything seemed to go slow-motion.

John was the first to open the door, thick beard and noticeably grayer hair than one year before. He hugged me tight and dropped a fast kiss on the top of my head and everything was finished before I even had time to think what I wanted to say. He talked to Mom, tired voice and scarce words, for some minutes. He was soon on his way upstairs, leaving her with a hint of sadness in her eyes for a second, and I wondered if it was true. If they ever had something.

Sam was next, and she was soon all over him.

"_Oh, god, how much have you grown up, Sam Winchester?" _She looked at him from head to foot. _"And what the hell have they been feeding you? You are too thin. Much thinner, ain't him, Jo?"_

I nodded, staring, but keeping my composture. He had always been tall, even a little gawky. When he left, he was about Dean's height. One year after, Sam was certainly taller than him. Thinner or not, he did look more muscular than I had ever noticed him being. And I had _noticed_ him a lot.

"_Thinner, yeah." _I answered.

"_Tomorrow I'm gonna... You can't just... Really, don't they know you're growing?" _she rambled, waving her hands, _"You know I'm not much into cooking, but tomorrow I'm gonna prepare my special stew, so you can have your first decent meal in a year."_

His eyes searched mine with that naughty look we used to share when we were kids plotting some mischief. He hugged Mom so she wouldn't see him rolling his eyes at me with one of his trademark smiles.

"_Thanks a lot, Ellen," _he managed to say, trying to cover my soft giggle with his voice.

Dean was the last one entering, darker hair and sadder eyes than the Dean in my memory. I experienced the joy of being greeted with a punch in my arm.

"_How's things, kiddo?", _he smirked

"_I am sixteen, you know?", _I snapped back.

"_I do. So how's things, sixteen-year-old kiddo?"_, he ruffled my hair, trying to get to bother me the most in as little time as possible.

Now, that, that was my Dean. I snorted and slapped his hand away from me, while I realized how much I had missed them.

Sam was upstairs without any of us noticing he was missing, probably just seconds after Dean opened the door. I was going to call him for help against his brother when I saw he was not there anymore.

* * *

Later, sitting in the dirty steps outside the bar, Dean talked. 

"_It's nothing personal, y__ou know?. They are mad at each other. That's all."_

"_And which team are you in?", _I raised an eyebrow, hoping I could get some more information.

"_There are... There are not teams in this. It's just a stupid row.__ Sam has this silly idea of going to college and being 'normal'. Huh, 'normal', what do you think?"_ it was not really a question, so I just nodded for him to go on. "_It'll be over soon. He'll listen to reason. He will."_

"_So you're in John's team?",_ I winked at him, trying to ease the tension.

"_Yeah," _he said, and took a long sip of his beer

"_Me too."_


	7. Chapter 7

**Characters are still not mine. I just have some non-profitable fun with them every now and then.**

* * *

"_You're tanned",_ I said, putting my arm next to his.

He chuckled a bit. Just a bit. He was still mad I had beaten him during morning practice. John had gotten angry at him. Dean had laughed at him. And as much as he wanted to deny it, he was a Winchester. All pride and stubbornness. 

"_You're not,"_ he teased. 

I tried to punch his arm, but he was faster and captured my hand in his. It was more of a caress than any other thing. 

* * *

It had not been my fault, really. Of course it was a dirty trick, but hey! I'm a girl, a little girl, and the big bad wolf is out there, ready to eat me for supper if I don't make the most of my opportunities. And, as I said before, it was not my fault Sam had been my training partner that day. 

He should have pinned me to the floor and kept his body stuck to mine. That's what you do when the adversary is basically defeated until John tells us to stop. But that day his grip was too lose and I had dreamed about that for years: just having a little opportunity to win only once. To be congratulated by John for something more than just trying hard. So I took my opportunity and ended up on top of Sam, effectively immobilizing him. I was not sorry I had won. But maybe I was a little sorry I had done it by kicking him... ahem... down there.

* * *

"_You're talle__r",_ I smiled, nervously watching how he was slowly cornering me.

"_You are__...",_ he bit his lip, pausing to find the words. He had never been good with words, _"you're rounder."_

"_You mean like fatter?"_ I tried to get away from him, frown in my face. Sam put his grip on my waist. He didn't want me to escape.

"_I mean it like",_ his hand travelled softly to my hip, _"curvy in the right places." _

I saw his lips approaching.

"_You're the one who stopped this, remember?"_ I found a way out when Mom suddenly called me.

Almost at the door, I looked back at him. He was still mostly the Sam I remembered. Still the Sam that made me feel weak in the knees. But that was not the way he was going to get it. Not with some easy pick up line and pretended cool attitude Dean had told him chicks dig. 

* * *

The following evening, there was a big argument. University, again. Nobody, not even Dean, dared trying to calm things until they were finished. John took the Impala and drove God-knows-where. Dean drank beer after beer in the Roadhouse. After he finished his sixth one, Mom caressed his hair and shook her head. He just sent her a tired, but thankful look, and she served him the seventh. I went upstairs and put on my pajamas.

The only answer to my knock on his door was some kind of groan. I interpreted it as 'come in'. Even if I was mostly convinced that was not what he actually meant.

"_What?"_

"_Erm, Sam, I've been having nightmares lately and I was wondering... I__f you don't mind." _

"_Oh!",_ his expression relaxed, as he lifted the cover of his bed. _"C'mere."_

That night, he hugged me more tightly and desperately than he ever had. Times like that, he drove me mad. It made me want to shout at him. How had he been able to confront the most horrible creatures most people could imagine, but not to ask me for a hug he obviously needed with all his soul. I swear nothing happened that night. I guess that was why I found it so funny when I overheard Dean's conversation with Mom the following day.

"_Ellen, I'm just saying I don't think it's appropriate anymore."_

"_The hell, Dean, is that you?",_ she joked, _"Worrying about what is appropriate?"_

"_Honestly,__ it was ok when they were kids, but now..."_

"_Ok. I know it's childish, and I know you think needing others makes one weaker. But I reckon your brother could use a friend yesterday, couldn't he?"_

"_G__uess you're right. But still, Ellen, I don't think they should be sleeping together anymore. Things have changed. I mean, Sam is a man already and..."_

"_Because he is eighteen?",_ Mom looked him in the eye, amused at Dean's argument.

"_Because he's been",_ Dean was, I swear, on the verge of blushing, _"he's been with women. Like in been, been."_

Mom raised an eyebrow.

"_Well, girls."_

Still amused look on her part.

"_Alright, Ellen, it was just like one or two girls. But I still think things like what happened last night could make them... confused about stuff.__"_

"_Are we talking about Sam and Jo? The kids who used to play hide and seek in our backyard?"_

I smiled. Playing, we were good at. That was something we had done from the very moment we met. We used to compete about who could hold their breath longer inside the water, who ran faster or who was able to eat more chocolate ice-cream. 

When I got back to his room, I found him sitting in his bed, eyes lost somewhere nobody but him knew. I was going to leave him with his thoughts when he lifted his gaze to me. There was no need for further words. I sat next to him. Sam's big hand, warm and comforting, caressed my hair. 

"_Thank you",_ he simply said.

I pretended not to know what he was talking about, mumbling something stupid.

"_F__or last night,"_ Sam finished. 

It was a sudden impulse. Before I could think what I was doing, my lips were on his. By the time Sam tried to put some sense into both of us, I was straddling his lap, breathing with some difficulty, our bodies so close I could perfectly hear his heartbeat.

"_Crap, Jo,"_ he panted, _"you don't know what you do to me."_

Looking at him, I could see his eyes darkening and his body tensing. And that was something I, only I, was provoking. That night, I couldn't sleep much. I kept thinking about that situation, and about what Dean had told Mom. About how maybe the effect slightly-older Jo had on slightly-older Sam had something to do with the not-so-effective pinning of my body to the floor during the practice. I remember putting my head under the covers, somewhere between self-consciousness and excitement.

That summer we played a lot. We played more than ever. We competed about who risked more getting caught by the others in the house, who played harder to get or who was the first to make the other moan. Playing, we were good at. 

* * *

**This is one of the last chapters for this story. Two left at best, three at worst. So let me know what you think. In the following one we'll have a new character. Not really new in SN, but one that's never appeared in this fic before. Any bets?**

**As much of a disaster as I am when it comes to answering your reviews, I'd like to say I love each one of them and how I appreciate you taking part of your time to read my story and share your thoughts about it. THANKS A LOT FOR THAT!**


	8. Chapter 8

Here I am, three months after. Shameless me. I have to say in my defense I did have loads of work to do, and I knew writing this chapter would **take ages.**

**As you know, they are not mine. All characters are Kripke's, blah, blah, blah.**

**I know Jo is not particularly nice and lovable in this chapter. But, would you be much nicer if you were in her shoes, huh? Seventeen-year-old me certainly wouldn't. I promise next chapter (which will be an epilogue for the story) will make it up for her character.**

**Mmm, ok, I think that's basically it. **

**Aaaaaand REVIEWS. You know I love them, don't you?**

**Long, loooong chapter for you. I think it's the longest I've ever written. Enjoy!**

* * *

Looking at the image in the mirror, I let out a smile. I adjusted my denim short skirt, his favourite one, if memories did not lie to me. My hair had been dyed a little lighter than its original shade. Desperate times led to desperate measures, I thought, while I was fighting to make my push-up look a little less... pushy. And still, there was no reason why anyone would suspect anything strange. After all, I had a date in the afternoon. It was not like I was going to make it that easy to Sam.

I found John sitting in the stairs, scribbling in his diary. Stealing his pen from behind, the tense lines around his eyes softened when he saw it was me.

"_No work during thanksgiving, remember?",_ I teased.

"_Yeah. Sorry, I know we promised. It's just that I..."__,_ he paused to find the words.

"_John... you know... it's still Sammy. And it's thanksgiving, for god's sake! We'll do the same every __damned normal family in this country does: yell at each other, eat too much, yell at each other again before an absolutely unnecessary dessert, and then thank god for having people to yell at."_

He nodded, staring to the front as if there was something there nobody but him could see. I felt the need to wake him up from that state.

"_Whoa! Where's grandpa Winchester gone?"_ I enquired.

He laughed, turning his gaze back to me.

"_After your not-that-subtle critics about my beard, I felt the need to shave,"_ he chuckled, caressing his jaw, "is it looking any better?"

"_Huh, let me see,"_ I tried to look serious_. "Gorgeous,"_ I nodded.

"_Getting closer to your type?",_ he joked.

"_Gimme seven months,"_ I replied, lowering my eyes somewhere between coquettish and mysterious.

"_Seven months?",_ John certainly looked puzzled.

"_C'mon John, you don't remember? I'm legal in seven months."_ I raised my eyebrows at his incipient laugh. _"It serious! You can't say yes to a six-year-old proposing you holy matrimony and then like forget it or something. And I warn you that I could totally be a bimbo if I wanted to,"_ I grinned.

"_Absolutely,"_ he managed to answer.

"_Not joking! Gimme some high heels and two pairs of socks to fill my... not so strong features and I could be miss California"__,_ I stuck out my tongue, as he drew his tanned arm close to my pale one.

"_Ok,"_ I admitted_, "probably not Miss California. But what about Miss Nebraska, huh? I could kick some ass there."_

"_I would vote for you,"_he winked at me, just before we both bursted out laughing.

* * *

It made me feel better, joking with John. While helping Mom in the kitchen, I could not stop asking questions.

"_Sooo, there is a surprise, huh?" _

"_And, as I'__ve told you a thousand times in the last day, it's... please honey, pass me the salt..."_

"_It's the salt mother?",_ I snorted, _"because that would so not be the hell of a surprise. Hey guys! We have the coolest salt in town to impress Sam after over a year of absence in our lives."_

Mom rolled her eyes in desperation.

"_For the hundredth time this morning: it is a surprise. Do you know what that word means?"_

"_But, is it like directly related to Sam coming?",_ I chewed my lower lip.

"_Yeah",_ Mom sighed.

I started inspecting the kitchen, in case there was something I had missed that could give me a clue on what was happening.

"_I think..."_ I started, _"I think we are preparing too much food. Even taking into account Dean's appetite."_

Mom did not answer.

"_It'__s that!! We are preparing too much food. Are we preparing to much food?",_ I asked, excitedly.

"_Are WE preparing food, Jo?",_ she raised an eyebrow.

"_Well,"_ I lowered my eyes, _"I'm... in the kitchen."_

Unfortunately, after that, while trying to actually take part in the cooking, I broke a couple of dishes and burnt something in the oven.

"_Joanna Beth!! A FRIEND!! Sam is bringing a goddamned friend today. Now you know it, please, please, please, GO. I don't wanna see you anymore in the kitchen today."_

I left apologizing, and jumped into the sofa, joining Dean to watch the football game.

* * *

Hearing the knock on the door downstairs, that was the first awkward thing of Sam coming back home. I remembered finding his keys on top of the table in the living room the morning after he left for university. I had held them in my hand for a minute and then put them on the back of the drawer where I kept the things I did not want to forget. There they laid, together with my dad's knife and the perfume mom always wore in their special occasions.

Mom called me and and I flew downstairs. Not that any of them noticed. I tried to elbow my way through the circle Ash, Dean, Bobby, Mom and John were forming.

When I did get to see something, I was so shocked I stumbled backwards, hoping to keep being unnoticed, and I knocked over a chair. Dean, who was the closest person, dragged me to the front, putting me next to him with his hand on my shoulder.

"_And this is Jo. She's like a sister to us__,"_ he moved his eyes to Sam.

I sent an angry glare at him, if only to avoid Sam's pleading eyes. It did not matter, anyway, because Dean was so busy pulling his just-for-girls smirk he did not even notice I was mad at him. Sam coughed.

"_So, Jess. This is Jo. She's... she's Ellen's daughter_." He coughed again. _"Jo's a very good friend to us."_

* * *

Later, during lunch, Mom called me for help in the kitchen.

"_I thought you had told me not to,"_ I shot.

"_I would be happy to help you, Ellen,"_ Jess suggested.

"_Thank you, sweetie, but you don't need to. You're our guest", _she smiled, immediately before sending a quick angry glance at me. _"Joanna Beth. Kitchen. Now."_

I dragged my feet following her. Mom shut the door.

"_What's gotten into you, kid?"_ she told me off.

"_Into ME!? What's gotten into YOU? Why did you lie to me in the first place?" _

"_What are you talking about? I never lied to you,"_ she said, waving her hands in the air.

"_You said Sam was bringing along a friend."_

"_And!!"_

"_C'mon, Mom! That's not a friend. That's... that's some... chick," _I puffed.

"_Jess, because she DOES have a name, is not some random chick. She's Sam's friend. You should be nice to her. I mean,"_ she took a deep breath, _"for the love of god, you're not ten-year-olds playing in the garden anymore. I know you miss him. I know",_ she softened her tone a bit, and caressed my hair, _"I know you used to spend a lot of time together and you had a horrible time when he left to Standford. But he's in college now, and has a normal life with no hunting in it. That's what he wanted, honey. And Jess is part of that life. So, if you love Sam, and I know you adore him, you'll have to accept the way things are now. Alright?_," she asked, hands of both sides of my face.

I nodded.

"_Will you be nice to her?"_ I nodded again. _"With a beaming smile?"_ I tried my best, which only led to a sad smirk.

It was not difficult to stop thinking of the issue. Dean cut the tension.

"_So, you burnt anything else, Jo?"_

I stuck my tongue to him.

"_Yeah, you can laugh at me, 'cos you're so good at cooking, you never burn anything. Oh, sorry, or is it because you've never tried, Mr. If-McDonnalds-Closed-Down-I'd-die-of-hunger? Huh?"_

The rest of the meal went as good as a Winchester/Harvelle meal can go. By dessert, I started shifting nervously on my chair. Mom noticed.

"_What time is Danny picking you up?",_ she asked.

Sam lifted his gaze, for the first damned time, from Jess.

"_Danny? Danny who?"_

"_Are you still dating that...?"_ Dean intervened.

"_Watch your mouth!",_ I shot.

"_Hey, here! Who is that Danny?",_ Sam tried to get some explanation.

"_He's a boy from school Jo's been dating lately,"_ Mom answered.

"_I will never g__et why you even let her hang out with him. It's like he's got the whole pack: bad-ass. Cocky. Class-cutter. Reckless. Insolent. Horrible driving."_

"_Dean!!_", I interrupted.

"_What?"_

"_You are describing YOURSELF",_ I snorted.

"_Which is a good reason why you should not date him,"_ he sentenced, narrowing his eyes. _"And I am a VERY good driver."_

* * *

When Danny left the roadhouse with a tasteless kiss, I hated having to go back for dinner to our recently created perfectly average American family, so Sam could trick Jess, and basically himself into thinking he was normal. I walked, biting my lip in annoyance. Someone grabbed my arm from behind and I sent a kick in its direction.

"_Ouch!! Hey, Jo, it's me, ok? It'__s me",_ he whispered.

I shook his hand from my arm.

"_Don't touch me,__ Sam"_ I warned, already leaving. He grabbed my arm again, more softly this time, as if asking for permission.

"_Please, let me explain."_

"_Where is she?"_

"_Jess is helping your mom with dinner."_

"_Oh, shit, she's so perfect. Do you think I should worry maybe my mom could prefer her to me?"_

"_C'mon Jo, be a little more mature."_

"_Mature? Me? You know what? I don't want to",_ I poked his chest, mad at him, _"because I'm barely seventeen and the first guy I kissed, who happens to be as well the guy I lost my virginity to, decides to bring some hot chick home the first time we meet in a year. You were supposed to be my best friend and I haven't heard from you in what? Like eight months? I didn't even know she existed. And now you come home, and rub her in my face and ask ME to be mature? I don't want to. And I don't think you have the right to tell me to."_

He lowered his head. It took him some effort to look me in the eyes again.

"_I know... I know. I did many things the wrong way. Even if I thought it was the only way back then. But... coming here... I just need you to know I didn't do this on purpose, and I never wanted to hurt you. Jess was going to travel to spend thanksgiving with her family in Europe because her dad is working there. And then she discovered I was on my own, and was adamant to stay with me. Your mom called last week and she would not take no for an answer, and insisted that I brought Jess with me. And when I arrived and realised Ellen had not told you about her it was too late. But she did not know about us, Jo, it's my fault really. I should have phoned you. If someone had the right to know about us beforehand, it was you. I'm so sorry."_

We both had tears threatening to fall from our eyes. Sam's cell rang, a call from one of his friends at university, he said. I walked away to the now empty bar and found Dean hiding something under the table he was sitting in.

"_You should know after some years living with you, porn doesn't shock me anymore."_

"_Ha.Ha. It's not porn,"_ Dean answered, while putting his papers again on the table, _"not this time, at least."_

I had a look at the untidy pile of papers.

"_Dean! I thought we sai__d no work today,"_ I protested.

"_Shhh!! Shut up! This is... I'm preparing a case, so that maybe dad gives me the opportunity to solve it on my own, you know?"_

"_Really? Can I help you put it together?"_

"_Jo...", _he protested, _"I don't think so. You know Ellen doesn't like you getting involved with our work."_

"_I'll tell her you let me drink beer during the match today."_

Dean stared open mouthed at me.

"_I didn't give you ANYTHING. Yo__u took MY bottle and drank"_

"_And did you tell her?",_ he shock his head, not understanding... yet, _"because that could be because you have something to hide about it." _

I smiled. Big time. He laughed.

"_Ok, __midget, first of all, do you have an internet conexion?"_

I nodded, trying my most innocent smile.

"_It helps me with my homework."_

* * *

Even Dean had noticed I did not really enjoy Jess' company.

"_You don't like her, huh?",_ he asked, while we surfed for the lore we needed.

"_Dean",_ I shifted my eyes from the screen to look him in the eye, _"she wants me to go shopping with her,"_ I snorted. _"Don't laugh."_

"_But, seriously. Do you really, really don't like her for Sammy? I mean, she doesn't look that bad for him, they kind of fit. What do you think?"_

"_Honestly? I don't know. She's not like us. Not..."_ I shrugged my shoulders. _"It might be me, but I don't think it can work. As much as he wants to deny it, Sam is like us. And he will always be."_

Dean sighed.

"_Besides_", I continued, _"I think they are fake_."

"_What?"__, _he raised an eyebrow.

I put my hands about half a mile in front of my breasts. Dean laughed his head off.

"_I don't think so, Jo. I mean, it's not like I've been ogling them or anything."_

"_Dean?"_

"_What?"_

"_You ogle every girl's boobs", _I remarked.

"_Anyway, my personal experience tells they are hers,"_ Dean smirked.

"_I would check her armpits for seams. Ju__st in case."_

* * *

We were setting the table for dinner when Jess started walking down the stairs. She had changed into a night dress and looked like she was going to the Oscars, instead of having dinner at our place. Dean was drooling. Ash was drooling. Sam was drooling which such intensity he did not even notice the other two. I shook my head, and someone patted me in the shoulder. I turned around and saw John standing there, a malevolent smirk in his face.

"_Look,"_ he whispered, _"Miss California."_

Fortunately, my giggles were not heard. They were all too busy at that moment.

Dinner, taking into account we had already been through lunch together, was not that horrible. Terribly long, but bearable. Dean was trying to bother Sam by telling Jess all the embarrassing anecdotes he could find which did not include any supernatural phenomena. When everybody thought he was done, he still found something else to tell her when Mom distributed the bedrooms.

"_Ok, so I sleep in my bedroom, Jo in hers, John and Bobby go to the boys' room, Sam and Jess will sleep in John's room, and Dean? You get the sofa."_

"_Lucky me."_ he narrowed his eyes.

"_Ellen, if there's a room with twins in it",_ Sam's girlfriend said, _"Jo and I can sleep there."_

"_It's ok, honey,"_ Mom answered tiredly, _"we're not that old-fashioned here."_

"_I have the feeling I'll have to remind you this conversation sometime in the future,"_ I added.

"_In a very long future. Like when you're thirty or something."_

I rolled my eyes at Dean's over-protective attitude towards me.

"_Jess, you just be careful you don't wake up with three people in your bed,"_he sniggered.

"_Dean...",_ Sam warned in a low tone.

"_C'mon, it's true!"_ he protested.

"_Dean!",_ I tried to cut him, kicking his shin under the table.

"_What?"_ Jess wondered, notoriously curious about the issue.

"_First thing you should know,"_ he began, _"is that your boyfriend is more of a girl than Jo is."_

Jess giggled, looking at Sam's pretended smile.

"_Ok, so these__ two",_he motioned towards Sam and I, while we both sunk in our seats, _"ever since they were kids, everytime one of them was afraid of something, they would go find the other and sleep together."_

Sam cleared his throat, trying to stop his brother.

"_We were kids, Dean. We took care of each other. That's what friends do,"_ he stated.

"_C'mon, dude!! I can remember it still happening regularly when you were like sixteen.__ Honestly,"_ he went back to a beaming Jess, _"we were afraid he was bringing her to college, They were like each other's security blanket."_

Then, I got up and left the table. I heard Sam and Dean calling my name, and Mom asking them to leave me alone, telling Dean off because, god, how could he not be a little more tactful to me. I took a jacket and walked into the air of the night.

* * *

It had been pouring for a good fifteen minutes when I heard the familiar purr of the Impala. Dean's voice came from the slightly-opened window.

"_Where the hell do you think you are going?"_

I quickened my pace.

"_C'mon, Jo, you're soaking wet. Your Mom's gonna kill me anyway. Just get in the car, so you can punch me or yell at me or whatever."_

It was dark and, yeah, I was too cold to be stubborn about that particular issue. I entered the car.

"_I'm not talking about it."_

He sighed.

"_C'mon, let's solve it now. I don't like staying mad at you_," his voice softened.

I shrugged my shoulders as an answer.

_"I'm sorry I embarrassed you."_

I nodded.

"_Ellen..."_ he cleared his throat, _"Jo, your mom says that's not actually the reason why you're mad, you know?"_

My body tensed at those words.

"_She says you kinda",_ he struggled to find the words, _"have a crush on me, and today I made you clear that I think of you like a little girl, which leads us to..." _he continued, covering his face with his hands.

As tempting as the situation was, I did not want to make him go through that. I took his hands.

"_It's not like that. You don't need to worry, really."_

He looked surprised. As if he had prepared a whole speech about the impossibility of something happening between us and he was lost because I had broken the rules.

"_Are you sure?"_

I giggled.

"_Yeah, Dean. I'm sure I don't have a crush on you and I don't think you're the love of my life__. Happy now?"_ I asked.

"_Yeah, hell, yeah!" _He took the keys to start the Impala, which had been parked since I had gotten inside.

Then, he stopped, and turned to me.

"_But",_ he frowned, thinking, _"why would you be that bothered? I mean, it's embarrassing, but basically everybody who was sitting at the table knew it beforehand, except for Jess. And still, you don't even like her. I'd even say you ha..."_

He stared at me, wide-eyed, as if that were the first time he saw me.

"_Oh, crap."_

I pretended I knew nothing of what he was talking about.

"_What?"_

"_Holly crap! We're morons. I can't believe we've spent years thinking... and now..." _he chuckled. Dean put a hand around me before continuing. _"But, honey, the answer is still the same. You are like a little sister to us, you know that."_

I jumped in my seat.

"_I'm not your sister, ok? I'm not your sister, and no matter how many times you say it, Dean, I will never be,"_ I yelled in desperation.

Dean took a deep breath, as if wondering how to break my defence.

"_It's not because of Jess. Even if he wasn't with her, he wouldn't. He couldn't, Jo."_

I snorted to myself. Or maybe not that much to myself.

"_He's never laid a finger on you, right?"_

I shook my head vigorously, but he was not convinced.

"_No, look at me. Look me in the eye. He's never laid a finger on you, has he, Jo?"_

"_No... no, no. He hasn't, Dean, never,"_ I tried to sound as certain as I could get in the nervous state I was, soaked, freezing inside the car, wishing he had never found me.

He fixed his eyes on mine, trying to find something, anything that confirmed my words, hoping he would be out-stared, that it became obvious I was telling the truth.

* * *

The Impala went faster than usual. Dean, behind the wheel, drove ignoring my pleads and tears, the way I desperately tugged at his jacket and repeated it wasn't true, like a psalm.

Then, everything went too quick. I still tried to stop Dean with all my strenght, which was obviously not enough. He climbed the stairs towards his dad's room. Jess answered at his insistent knock on the door.

"_Could you leave us alone? It will only be a moment,"_ he told her.

She moved to leave the room, but Sam stopped her.

"_No. Dean, whatever you wanna say, you can say it before Jess,"_ he reassured her.

Dean closed the distance between him and his brother.

"_Alright."_

He threw a punch to Sam's jaw.

Sam rose to his feet again, and told his girlfriend to wait downstairs. Jess dragged me to the living room, and asked things I was not really able to hear. Everything I could understand at that moment was Dean's words upstairs. Dean's, because Sam did not seem to answer anything in his defence. The words hammered in my head once, and again, and again, for weeks.

"_How old was she?"_

And there was only the sound of another punch, and silence. And again, spitting every word furiously.

"_Just tell me... How.old.was.she?"_

The front door opened, with John and Mom, and Bobby and Ash, who had been trying to find me all the time, because Dean had obviously not called.

Jess said something, I don't know what, as soon as they opened the door. They jumped the steps to John's old room. John yelled and yelled, asking for explanations, and Dean... Dean said nothing.

Sam took their things and held the hand of a still shocked Jess, and all I could see was how Dean looked at his brother, like a bull ready to charge at him. How the eldest brother was basically unharmed, while the youngest had taken every one of the blows that had been directed at him.

I spent the whole night sitting on the lap of a drunk John, who kept mumbling unintelligible curses to himself. He thanked me later, when he sobered, red eyes and a vulnerable expression I could have never imagined in his face before. When I searched for the spot in my shirt he kept staring at, I saw my left shoulder was soaked in his tears. And that was the first time, the only time, I saw John Winchester crying.


	9. Epilogue

**Ok, so this is the epilogue I promised. I really wanted to make it happier, but this was the result. I don't think it's too horrible, anyway. As for the rating, I honestly think this is still T and goes no further than "minor suggestive adult themes." But if anyone thinks I should put the whole story under a higher rating for this chapter, just tell me and I will. **

**Disclaimer: all characters are Kripke's, blah, blah, blah. If they were mine, Jo would still be on the show.**

They were organising the bottles on the selves when they heard the noise of a car. Ellen motioned her to take care of the main entrance; she would go to the backdoor. Jo couldn't believe there were still thieves stupid enough to try and break into the roadhouse. As soon as the poor devil entered the bar, her rifle had made useless any sort of attempt on his part. Easier than average, she thought. Her mom's voice told Jo she had succeeded in the other entrance, too.

_"Are you Bonnie or Clyde?",_ she snorted.

He simply turned around. Jo didn't know what to do, or to say for that matter. The last thing she expected that morning was a Winchester in her bar. Scratch that. Two Winchesters.

When Ellen opened the door followed by a downcast Sam, her heart skipped a beat. He avoided looking her in the eye at all costs and she could not help gripping the rifle so tight her hands went white.

_"Would you mind"_ Dean interrupted her thoughts, _"not pointing at me with that thing? You may get hurt," _he winked at her.

Jo took the bottle on the closest table and splashed its contents on his face.

_"Holy water!? What the fuck!",_ he protested.

_"There is no such thing as too much caution when demons could be involved."_

_"You learnt that from us?"_ Dean asked, with a hint of pride in his eyes.

_"From Buffy,"_ she shot, lowering the gun.

She walked to her mom's side, standing by her. Ellen stared at John's boys.

_"So you're running errands for him, you two?"_ she asked.

Dean looked at Sam. Sam looked at Dean. It did not feel like they had a plan for that moment.

While they hungrily ate some burgers, her mom and Jo sneaked to the car they had borrowed from Bobby, took their old duffel bags and put them on top of their old beds. It was Ellen's way of inviting them to stay for a while.

48 hours of silent tension went by before the first outburst between the two brothers. Jo covered her ears with her hands the way she used to do when it was John and Sam arguing. Like then, that was not enough to suffocate the voices on the other side of the wall. When Dean slammed the door on the way out, she felt sixteen again. She should have anticipated what would happen next. The soft knock on the door, and the pleading eyes, and the dark circles under them. The whispered confessions and mumbled apologies, and the tears. The tears. She had spent the previous night awake, trying to make out why on earth she was not able to cry for John's death. It was not until a fully grown up Sam Winchester sat on her bed, tears on his own eyes, that she became really aware that John would never ever again teach her a new move, or yell at his youngest kid next door. They hugged, and cried together, and kissed each other's cheeks until she was not sure whose were the tears running down her face, and clumsy, salty lips moved dangerously to the corners of their mouths, and their bodies started reacting in ways they really shouldn't. And she honestly tried to take a deep breath, and think things over again, and act normal. If only boundaries were clear, if only they had not been that blurred for so many years, it would have been easier to act normal. To grieve together without falling into something that, according to Dean's reaction years before, was almost incestuous. With the lights off and his questioning fingers lifting the waistband of her pajama bottoms, she shut her eyes tight, pretending they were still those two teenagers discovering each other for the first time. When she woke up the following day, the marks left on the side of her neck by his stubble reminded Jo life had run fast from those days.

* * *

It was one of the most difficult things he had done in his life, looking at Ellen and Jo and telling them his father was dead. Dean and he had surprisingly agreed (it was almost a miracle to have them agree on something, lately) on driving personally to the roadhouse. They deserved it, Dean said after a long silent hour behind the wheel. For Jo it would probably be like losing her father all over again, he added. Dean took his eyes from the road and glanced at him for a second. Sam could almost see the question forming in his brother's mouth. He didn't bother, in the end. He probably thought there was enough conflict going on without the appearance of issues they had been very careful not to mention ever since everything happened.

Truth to be told, it was awkward at first. He hadn't been hugged or cuddled that way in a year. He didn't know what to do with his hands and he hit his head with her headboard. She responded with a teary giggle and a whisper about his clumsiness. And he realised that, after all, it was Jo, and it was not as if they didn't both know how wrong everything was, how wrong those two kids they once were had grown up. Back in his bed, he remembered Sarah, the sweet brunette with smiling eyes back in New York. The sleepless nights, the nightmares, and that heavy load of guilt a simple kiss had caused. For weeks, he kept torturing himself over how easily, how fast he had forgotten Jess, even if just for a moment. He started feeling guilty no later than the moment her lips touched his. He wondered why that had not happened with Jo that night. Not when her fingers played with his hair, not when he pressed her tiny form against his chest, not when he touched her, neither when she was the one starting a caress down his stomach. When he woke up the following day, there were no signs of nightmares, not even a hint of nervous sleep in the linen of his bed. That moment, Sam assumed that pretty, smiling brunettes were not for him. Never had been, really. Downstairs, in the kitchen, he stared into his coffee as if it contained a magic solution for all problems on earth. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't avoid thinking Ellen would look at him and, out of the blue, know everything. He had this feeling that it was written all over his face, that if they paid attention to him, just a little bit, they would know. It was a re-run of the morning after kissing Jo for the first time, it was like being fifteen again.

The day Ash caught them kissing, he knew it was a question of time. He cursed their luck once and again. How was it possible that they had kissed once, freaking once, in the bar, and Ash chose that moment to open the door of his very smoky room. Jo made her cousin promise not to talk with very ugly threats in case he did. Sam knew she was lying when she told him everything was ok. He didn't even need to hear her sobs on the other side of the wall that night.

* * *

Dean enjoyed working in the bar. Not with the passion of hunting, but it was far from bothering him. The music, the orders and a hot girl every now and then were a good way to spend the usually long hours in between hunts. It kept one from replaying your own mistakes over and over again. Besides, the roadhouse was the closest thing to a home he could remember, and he had always been glad to help Ellen. As they were staying there for a while, it was just natural to go give a hand behind the counter. Ellen mentioned with a frown that he would would work beside her in the morning shifts because, hell, yeah, she trusted him, but not that much when chicks were involved. Dean didn't know whether she referred to Jo or to his tendency to give free shots to the most daring cleavage of the night.

He sure kept an eye on them both most of the evenings, while they started their shifts in the bar. And when he saw them behaving normally, the way Sam and Jo had always been together, he walked upstairs to enjoy a deserved rest. Dean was an excellent liar, so good sometimes he managed to convince himself of the most difficult things. Like when he was seven and made himself believe his mommy had not suffered any pain when she died. Like when he was twenty-seven and decided he had acted hastily years before, that, had he asked, he would have known there was never anything to make that much of a fuss about. They were good kids, the two of them, who, honestly, had probably never received enough attention, except for the one coming from each other. There had never been anything further than confusing feelings, and a smooch or two at worst, he thought. So every night, before going to bed, he would check on them, make sure there was nothing wrong, and sleep peacefully. Too bad one night a noise woke him up at 2 am. There was a giggle and a shushing sound next door, and Dean silently prayed in the darkness that his brother was sleeping in the other bed in their room, and Jo had taken some stranger to hers. It was not that big a surprise, not really, that Sam's bed had not even been touched that night, that the whispers on the other side of the wall sounded suspiciously like him. A week after, Dean started officially considering it a curse. He would wake up every night just to hear their soft steps on their way upstairs after long working hours, and the kisses on the room next door becoming more and more frantic as days went by. And he would get up every morning thinking Sam would confess to him, that things between them were very much different to what they were years before. Every day, Dean would have breakfast hoping Sam would at least ask for his advice. Every evening, he would have dinner silently cursing the god damned kid who would take you as the enemy and persist in keeping everything to himself. He could almost swear he was quoting his father word by word.

* * *

Ellen could not say she was happy. She was almost sure that word had not even been in her dictionary for a long time. But she was allright having Jo and the boys at home. It was difficult to believe they were adults already. She could practically still see them every time she adjusted the rear-view mirror in her truck, Dean whinning about sharing the backseat with the younger kids, Jo half asleep on Sam's shoulder, ten-year-old Sammy reading aloud all the signs they found on the road. Then, having them argue in the middle of the mall about which ones were the bestest cereals in the world. Those moments, she was able to convince herself John and her were not doing it that bad, all things considered.

She wished circumstances had been different, that John was still alive, that Sam had not gone through such horror, that her daughter had been more worried about her grades and college, even about boys, than about hunting.

Dean was the spitting image of John. Maybe not all his features reminded of him, but the way he talked, he dressed, he gave orders, and, why not, the way he seduced women, contained the pure essence of his father. The two little ones, Sammy and Jo, she was so proud of them. They were survivors, much stronger than John and Dean had ever admitted, much more independent, better trained and probably more intelligent than the previous generation had been at their age.

There was this one day Dean accompanied her to buy a TV they desperately needed for the bar after the old one decided to die in the middle of some basketball final. They were halfway through the road when she realised she had forgotten her credit card at home.

_" That happens a lot when you have too many things dancing around in your head,"_ she explained herself when Dean started sighting like a girl. _"Anyway, stop whining. It's my car, it's my money, it's my gas. You are simply the warehouse assistant."_

_"I'd prefer it if you referred to me as your very handsome warehouse assistant,"_ he joked.

Ellen rolled her eyes.

_"Whatever."_

When they arrived home, Ash was taking care of the bar. Ellen frowned. It was not like Sam to leave the bar just like that. Dean started moving around.

_"I'll get you your card, you just wait here,"_ he smiled nervously.

_"You don't know where it is,"_ she answered.

_"Tell me, and I'll go find it upstairs,"_ Dean insisted.

"_Why?",_she asked, full of suspicion.

"Because I'm your personal assisstant today, Ellen." He tried his best smile. One that would have tricked any woman. Any woman that had not been on the receiving end of that smile before by another Winchester.

Ash mumbled some cheap excuses with the intention of entertaining her while Dean climbed up the stairs. And that was it. Dean had barely put a foot on the upper floor when she caught his sleeve and stopped him.

"_What?",_ she asked.

She tried her best to make it clear that she was serious.

_"If your brother has taken Jo to some hunt and put her into danger, I... I..."_ she threatened.

He didn't answer, and all she had to do was look around. The door of the boys' room was open. The cars were all in the garage, Sam and Jo were not downstairs, not in the kitchen and not in the small living room right next to her. Only Jo's door remained shut and, suddenly, everything fit like the pieces of a puzzle. Suddenly, everything made sense. She kept her now wide open eyes stuck to the door.

_"This has happened before, hasn't it, Dean?"_

* * *

**So... this is the end. I hope you liked it. If anyone has read the whole story, liked it or hated it, comments would be incredibly helpful and welcome. I won't be writing a sequel to this, but I've been considering something short about teen!Sam and teen!Jo, set during THAT summer in the story. Promise it won't be angst at all. Let me know what you think. **

**Thanks, thanks, thanks a lot to everyone who took a moment of their time to review, and to all the people who took much longer than a moment to read my fic. You are love, guys!**


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